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I was listening to “Tourniquet” by Evanescence for the one hundredth time it seems like when the words fully hit me. 

My God, my tourniquet
Return to me salvation
My God, my tourniquet
Return to me salvation 

A tourniquet is a medical tool used to stop excessive bleeding, particularly war wounds.  It is not comfy, but it saves your life.  Now, if you were dying from a wound, you would take the tourniquet, even if it hurt, right?   

“For the wages of sin is death” Romans 6:23 states, “but the gift of God is eternal life, through Christ Jesus, our Lord.”  Christ is our tourniquet.  He saves us from death.  It’s like he transferred the wound from us to him. 

Coming to Christ isn’t generally a walk in the park.  I was strange because, though God was chasing me, I didn’t run from him for too long.  I have seen other people’s conversions and it was like their entire soul was being torn to shreds because they wanted to keep bleeding instead of accepting the tourniquet and transfer. 

I was reminded of a conversation I had with Shadoweary Elaine (http://shadowearyelaine.wordpress.com/)the first time I went with her to her church.  It’s an Episcopalian church (I grew up in Baptist influenced churches).  The Communion used real wine and bread (compared to crackers and grape juice).  I had never had alcohol before and it burned all the way down and my stomach was burning.  Elaine said, very wisely, “Communion isn’t supposed to be comfortable.  We are being reminded of the sacrifice that Christ gave us.”  

I remembered then and now, that we Christianity isn’t supposed to be easy or comfortable.  Trials will come.  It is not if, it is when.  Christ died for us.  Why shouldn’t I go through a little discomfort to honor him, when he died for me.  

The Crucifixion was the first thing that I truly believed and knew in my life.  My life was just a bunch of facts until then.  When I was told about the size of the nails involved in Crucifixion, I truly believed that Christ was not comfortable in dying for us.  I didn’t trust Christ then yet, I couldn’t understand the meaning of His sacrifice. (I was only four or five then.) 

That is my little ramble about pain and sacrifice and Christ.  I’m planning to write a book about knowing things and believing things.  That is a bit of taste for you.  

Until Our Next Meeting. 

The Lost Writer of Rohan